


I'm Gonna Key Your Car

by Kivea



Category: South Park
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe, Bickering, Comedy, Enemies to Lovers, Humor, M/M, Petty, Romance, Sex Jokes, though 'enemies' is pushing it a bit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-03
Updated: 2018-02-03
Packaged: 2019-03-13 03:29:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13561806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kivea/pseuds/Kivea
Summary: There's some asshole who keeps parking in their spot at the apartment building. So what if they don't actually have a car? It's the principle of the matter here, and that is that it's their spot, not this guy's, and Kyle is determined to give him a piece of his mind (or at least key his car).





	I'm Gonna Key Your Car

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [[翻译]老子要划爆你的车！](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13854393) by [billindip](https://archiveofourown.org/users/billindip/pseuds/billindip)



Stan knew there was going to be trouble as soon as his best friend stepped into the building with heavy steps and a soft sound that could only be muttering under his breath. He counted to five mentally in his head; a practiced method of preparing himself for whatever was to come, before he turned and put on his best not-too-strained smile as the redhead entered the kitchen with a red face and a look that could kill. 

He opened his mouth to speak, but the redhead didn’t give him a chance. 

“Do you have a visitor, Stan?” 

“Uh…” he glanced around the room. “No?” 

“No?” 

“No.” 

“No, you don’t. Then would you like to tell me _why_ there’s that shitty blue SUV parked in our space outside?!” 

He groaned before he could stop himself, knowing the response his lack lustre attitude would invite. “Kyle, we don’t even have a car.” 

“That’s not the point, Stan! It’s the principle of the matter! What if my mom drops by?!” 

“Shit-she’s not, is she?” he was so not ready to deal with Mrs Broflovski. 

“No, she’s not, I banned her from impromptu visits, but that’s _not the point_!” 

Kyle’s verbal war with the SUV owner had been going on for three weeks. Three whole weeks of some guy parking his car in their spot. Neither of them had seen the owner, and Stan had a theory that whoever it was knew someone who lived in their building and probably just parked in whatever space was available, which ended up being theirs, seeing as neither of them had a car. 

He argued this point. They didn’t need the spot, and the worst offense this guy had was that his car was ugly and a fuel guzzler that would destroy the planet. Kyle practically foamed at the mouth as he asked Stan _what will you do when one of us do get a car, and you can’t park it, because that monstrosity is in the way?!_

Last time this happened he had to restrain Kyle from going and taking a key to the shiny blue paintwork. 

“What do you want to do about it?” 

A spark lit up in the redhead’s eyes. 

“You can’t pop his tyres.” 

“I’m not going to,” Kyle muttered with a glare, though Stan had known the man long enough to know that was a guilty flush to his cheeks. “I’m going to write him a letter.” 

“Seriously?” 

“Seriously.” 

“You gonna put it on his windscreen or something?” 

“Exactly that.” 

“What? Come on, man, that’s uncool.” 

The Jewish man was on a mission, his eyes having finally left Stan and instead roaming about the kitchen for a pen and paper. “I’m going to politely ask he stops parking in my spot.” 

“ _Your_ spot, huh?” 

Kyle nearly jabbed his eye out with a pen as he pointed it in Stan’s face. “Don’t test me, Marsh.” 

And with that his best friend was gone, disappearing to the hallway shortly followed by the slam of the front door. Stan sucked in a large breath, internally reasoning that it wasn’t worth getting wrapped up in one of Kyle’s missions against the world. 

He reasoned that there was no harm in watching it all unfold from the front window while texting Kenny. 

* * *

Kyle was particularly proud of the letter if he was completely honest. He’d refrained from name-calling and kept his language clean, which was a lot more than he could say for his thoughts. He finally was doing something about this asshole SUV driver, and it felt good. 

No longer would he come home to a big blue beast in front of the space that had their door number clearly signed. No longer would he have to suffer through Stan’s pussy-ass response to him suggesting they just do some casual vandalism to teach the guy a lesson. Today it all stopped. 

He leant across the bonnet to secure the folded paper under the windscreen wiper, letting the black wiper snap back in place a little harder than he probably should. 

“Hey!” a nasally voice snapped. “What the fuck are you doing to my car?!” 

He spun round and pressed himself to the large vehicle, eyes wide as he found the owner staring straight at him and jogging over. His legs begged to flee into the building and get away from the confrontation, but something had him pinned in place unable to move. 

Maybe it was the fact that the man running towards him was kind of _really hot_. 

The man wore a black leather jacket over a blue hoody, and his blue eyes gave Kyle the once over as he approached, shadowed by dark black brows that were pulled together. The redhead suddenly felt very ugly in his usual work suit, having not had changed out of it after getting back home. 

“Well?” the man questioned as he stopped a couple of steps in front of Kyle, peering round his shoulders. “What have-is that a note?” 

“Yes!” Kyle grasped for his voice and anger as he realised who exactly this was. “Yes, I didn’t know who owned the car, so I left a note.” 

“I do.” 

He didn’t expect to bump into the asshole. Maybe it’s a good thing Stan shot down his vandalism ideas. “Wonderful. Great. I’ll let you read it in peace then.” 

The guy rolled his eyes, though his shoulders had slumped and the frown on his face had lifted somewhat. “Just tell me what it says, fucks sake.” 

A spark of anger. “Fine, I will. It’s me politely asking you not to park in my spot anymore. I don’t know which flat you live in, but they each have their own space, and this one is mine.” 

The frown was back. “Oh. I kinda thought you didn’t have a car.” 

He stuttered. This is why he was leaving a note and not having a conversation. “I don’t. My friends do.” 

One thick brow rose. “You…don’t have a car?” 

“No.” 

“But you don’t want me parking in your spot?” 

“Right.” 

“Okay,” the man patted him on the shoulder. “Thanks for the suggestion, but I’ll pass.” 

Kyle felt his face heat up with fury as the man sidestepped him and grabbed the note, crumpling it in one hand and going for the driver’s side door. “Excuse me?!” 

“I’ll pass. I don’t live here, so it’s not like I’m always parked in ‘your’ spot.” 

“You-you can’t park here if you don’t live here!” 

The man raised his brows and looked pointedly at the SUV and then Kyle. “Uh, technically? I can. I have the ability to. Thus…” he wiggled his hands at the car. “Parked.” 

“You know what I meant!” Kyle snapped. “You shouldn’t park in other people’s spots!” 

“Oh yeah?” the dark-haired male propped an arm up against the side of his car, looming over Kyle with narrowed eyes. “What you going to do about it?” 

“I’ll report you to the building manager,” Kyle decided with a scowl. “If I see you in my spot again, I’m going to ring the building manager and tell him.” 

The man gave an amused snort. “Alright then, two-one-five. Whatever.” 

And with that he opened the door, stepped in the car with a shake of his head, and gave one last patronising smile in Kyle’s direction before driving out the parking lot. 

As soon as he was out of sight Kyle stomped his foot on the ground and cursed himself in all his _uselessness_. When he looked up to where his flat was he could see Stan at the window with the light on his phone glowing across his face, and the asshole had the audacity to give him a thumbs up. 

He flipped his middle finger up to the man. 

* * *

The building manager was uninterested. The argument that Kyle and Stan needed the spot for if anyone they knew visited fell on deaf ears, and when he asked what would happen when they got their own car the manager happily told him that then he’d do something about it. 

Kyle was livid for at least an hour. 

He didn’t dare face the dark-haired man again after coming up empty. He occasionally caught sight of him from the window, getting into his car to drive away from whoever or whatever he was visiting, seeing as he didn’t _even live there_. 

Kyle was also convinced the man had started specifically parking in their spot. Even when other places were free, he would only take theirs. Kyle swore he saw the SUV more now than before. 

“You probably riled him up,” Stan pointed out while in the living room one day, the TV playing in the background as they looked out the window. “You know, like, adding fuel to the fire or something.” 

“Fucking assface,” Kyle muttered. “If I set fire to it he wouldn’t be laughing.” 

“Please do not set fire to the car.” 

“I won’t,” he sighed. That was going a little far. 

“Empty threats aren’t really your thing.” Stan nudged their feet together. “What’s got you so rattled with this guy?” 

“It’s hard to explain-there it is!” 

The pair looked down to see a familiar large blue SUV pulling into the parking lot, driving round past a handful of empty spaces until he found the one labelled ‘215’. 

“See!” Kyle hissed. “He’s gone for ours! One-one-three is closer, but he’s not even considered it! He’s just gone straight for us!” 

“Now what?” 

“I’m gonna follow him.” 

“What?” Stan’s wide eyes locked on Kyle, who ignored him in favour of grabbing his keys. “No, Kyle that’s crazy please do not stalk the fuel guzzler.” 

“It’ll be fine!” Kyle insisted. “I’m just going to see where he’s going that he feels the need to park in our spot. He said he doesn’t live here, so there must be someone else. Maybe he’s visiting someone?” 

“What if he catches you?” 

“I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it,” Kyle whipped round to his best friend. “Are you coming, or am I going alone?” 

The pair moved through the halls, heading straight for the stairs to go down to the bottom floor to try catch the man. Kyle came to an abrupt stop, Stan bumping into him and swearing under his breath, as he saw a blue hood taking the door from the stairway to the first floor. 

The best friends exchanged a look and a nod before they moved down, peeking through the window of the door before Stan moved first as he was unknown, opening the door and walking down the corridor following the man, who had just opened the door to number one-zero-three. 

Kyle was on his heels in seconds. “What was it?” 

“One-zero-three.” 

“One-zero-three?” Kyle scowled. “I’m going to get to the bottom of this.” 

“Kyle don’t-!” 

The redhead rushed forward and pounded on the door. 

“-Do anything brash…” 

There was a six second pause, Kyle raising a fist to knock again before the door flew open, revealing an attractive man, tall with dark hair, staring him down with a raised brow and a face that couldn’t care less wearing that same leather jacket.

Stan mentally connected the dots and resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose.

“Oh,” the nasally voice greeted. “It’s you.” 

“Yeah, _it’s me_ ,” Kyle hissed. “Nice to see you remember the guy whose space you keep parking in.” 

“You made sure to be memorable, that’s for sure.” 

“So why aren’t you parking in one-zero-three’s spot?” 

The man shrugged. “He has his own car.” 

“You guys can’t just take up all the spaces in the lot you know! It’s not fair on the rest of us.” 

“So what are you gonna do when you get your own car and your friends visit?” the man shot back. 

Kyle folded his arms across his chest and smirked. “There are five spare spaces allotted specifically for visitors.” 

“Yeah, and usually? They’re full.”

“They’re not _today_ , so do you want to explain to me why you decided to park in our spot today?” 

An amused smile began to spread across the man’s face. “Wait a second; did you _follow me_ from the parking lot?” 

Kyle opened his mouth to respond. He snapped it closed. 

“You did!” the man confirmed with a tremor of a laugh to his voice, raising his tone as he spoke and leaning back as though he wanted the owner of the apartment to hear. “You followed me all the way here.” 

“ _What_?!” came a panicked shriek from inside, and the smile across the dark male’s face became a little more sinister. “Who followed you?! Craig I’ve told you, you have to be more careful! I can’t deal with suspicious people knocking on my door!” 

The man opened the door further, stepping out the way to expose the blonde owner of the house. “Hey, Tweek, these guys look familiar to you?” 

Kyle grit his teeth as he realised what was happening, recognising the owner of the flat instantly. Tweek Tweak was a peculiar but delightful neighbour who made the best cupcakes he had ever had in his life and was a little on the paranoid scale. He was also Stan’s favourite neighbour, which was further proved by the man rushing forward to do immediate damage control on the situation, a friendly smile on his face as he threw an arm around Kyle’s shoulders. 

“Hey! Tweek!” Stan greeted. “What’s up?” 

“Oh- _sweet Jesus_ -it’s just you guys!” Tweek scuttled over to the door to stand next to the man. “Sorry, I thought you were like, hooligans or something, here to rob us. Craig drives through the really shitty parts of town to get here and I _keep telling him_ -!” 

“-That one day someone’s gonna take a knife to my tyres or something, I know. I told you, I don’t drive that way anymore. I don’t wanna make you panic.” 

Tweek’s eyes narrowed suspiciously as they flickered up and down Craig’s frame, but he seemed to accept it. “Cool. What are you guys doing here?” 

Kyle spoke before Stan could get a word in. “Craig’s been parking in our spot.” 

“Oh!” Tweek shifted his weight from foot to foot. “I-uh-I mentioned to him that you guys don’t have a car, cause, I mean, Mrs Jackson next door does, so we can’t use her spot, and when the free spaces are empty…was-was I wrong? Oh, shit, man, have we been taking your space? Do you need it? Shit, Craig, I told you we should check-!” 

“It’s fine, Tweek, we don't have a car,” Stan’s voice cut Tweek off. “You’ll just have to give us some cupcakes as payment for using our space.” 

“Right! Yes! That’s-that’s fair.” 

“You don’t have to give them shit,” Craig scoffed. “This asshole already called the building manager on me, right? And what did he say? Nothing?” 

“Piss off, _Craig_ ,” Kyle felt a thrill of satisfaction knowing the guy’s name, especially as his hadn’t come up yet. “It’s the principle of the matter. There’s nothing wrong with asking permission.” 

“Oh yeah? How’s this for-!” 

Tweek landed a solid punch in Craig’s shoulder as the man’s arm started to rise. Kyle and Stan grimaced at the force of it. 

“Ow!” 

“Stop it,” Tweek hissed. “I don’t mind baking something for you guys as a thank you. It means a lot.” 

“Cool, glad we can agree!” Stan gave a wide smile and began to pull Kyle away from the door. “We’ll let you guys get back to it.” 

“No, wait-!” 

“Come on, Kyle. Let’s get going.” 

Craig clicked his tongue and his blue eyes raked over Kyle as a smirk settled on his face. “Yeah, Kyle, get going.” 

Stan steered him towards the stairs, years of playing football and keeping up at the gym giving him the physical advantage over his best friend. Kyle struggled for a moment, looking over his shoulder to shoot a particularly nasty glare in Craig’s direction, only to have the man flip him off and slam the door shut. 

He let his frustration out in the foam of a loud, anguished cry in the stairwell. 

“Dude I am not giving up Tweek and his baking for your squabble with the fuel guzzler,” Stan stated, finally putting his foot down. “It’s not happening.” 

“We can’t just let him get away with it!” Kyle argued. “It’s unfair! And unjust! And he’s not even parking in our spot sometimes, it’s all the time!” 

“You’re telling me you want to give up Tweek’s cupcakes just to prove a point?” 

Kyle fell silent. 

“Exactly. Your mom can park in the spare spots if he’s using it when she comes round. Maybe not having access to a parking space’ll make her come round less.” 

Kyle huffed but didn’t respond, knowing he’d lost this battle. His brain began to spin as he tried to come up with a way to not lose all of his dignity, allowing himself to be pushed into the flat and moved to the living room, not looking at his flatmate. 

“I want you to be honest with me, dude.” 

He looked up to see Stan pulling a face that meant he was about to ask something he was too curious to let lie, but didn’t really want to know. 

“And keep in mind I won’t judge you. This is a judgement free zone. Completely judgeless.” 

“What is it?” 

“Is this…like…” Stan scratched the back of his head and planed a hand on his hips. “You know when Kenny said you and Cartman arguing all the time was just unresolved sexual tension?” 

“Yeah, as a _joke_.” 

“I’m just saying, Craig’s pretty attractive, and kinda looks like your type, and you flirt really…aggressively.” 

“I do _not_ have a thing for the SUV guy.” 

“Are you sure? You can be honest with me, dude. I promise I won’t judge you.” 

“That is disgusting,” Kyle spat. “He drives a horrible monster of a car, like, have you seen that thing? He’s probably got _kids_ or something to have a people carrier like that, and seriously, he’s not _that_ attractive.” 

“I dunno, I know I’m not gay or whatever but I can appreciate a good-looking guy.” 

“Yeah, okay, he’s _good looking_ or whatever but he’s a total asshole. His looks don’t make up for his complete lack of decency!” 

“Okay, I just wanted to check. This guy’s just really got under your skin.” 

“Kenny has been filling your head with bullshit.” 

“Alright.” 

Kyle shot Stan with a glare that he hoped communicated how unimpressed he was with the whole ordeal, but didn’t comment further. He could see that Stan didn’t believe him, but he didn’t have to justify himself on this. This was obvious, and if Stan wanted to let Kenny manipulate his poor little brain like that, Kyle wasn’t going to stop him. 

Four hours later there was a knock on the door, Stan failing to raise his hand first, resulting in him answering it. There was muffled noises and a happy exclamation from Stan in the hallway before he reappeared with a grin and a colourful cake box, holding the door open wide to let the smaller blonde behind him into the room. 

Tweek gave a nervous wave. “Hey, Kyle, sorry-uh-for dropping by unannounced.” 

Without the taller asshole by his side, Kyle felt a wave of shame upon seeing the pale face. “Don’t worry about it, dude. Sorry for…uh…” 

“It’s fine!” Tweek insisted. “I talked to Craig about it. He kinda briefed me-well, I mean, he gave me the Craig version, which is really brief, but…yeah,” he gestured to Stan and the cake box. “I made you guys something to say thank you.” 

_Christ_ how did Craig make friends with a guy like Tweek? 

“You staying?” Stan asked. “We’re just watching Myth Busters if you wanna join us?” 

“Uh, sure, if that’s okay?” 

Kyle nodded eagerly. “Course! I can get you a drink-coffee, right?” 

Tweek gave a skittish nod before Stan invited him to sit down and opened up the cake box on the table, revealing a selection of well decorated cupcakes. 

Kyle decided he could probably let the whole thing rest if it meant they got free treats out of it. 

* * *

He couldn’t let it rest. 

He would never let it rest. Not when those blue eyes were glittering across the room, a smug smirk of victory pointed in his direction. 

The lights of the club flashed and blinked around him, loud music reverberating through the floor and up his legs, but his attention had been divided between the people he was with and the group of men across the room. He’d caught sight of Tweek first, the blonde with hazel eyes and a worried frown, before he saw the man next to him. As soon as their eyes locked, Craig hadn’t stopped looking _proud_ of himself. 

“Okay, who’s the guy Kyle’s been making bedroom eyes at for the past half hour?” 

Kyle shot his blonde friend a withering look. “Shut up. I’m not making bedroom eyes at anyone.” 

“Uh, I beg to differ,” Kenny gave a disbelieving snort. “Cartman called you a filthy Jew at least four times in the past ten minutes and you haven’t batted an eyelid.” 

“I’m _glaring_. There’s a difference.” 

He felt his gaze pulled back towards the fuel guzzler across the room. 

“You know the guy who’s been parking in our spot, who owns the SUV?” Stan explained. “Turns out he’s Tweek’s friend, you know, the manager of that cute teahouse Cartman likes?” 

“Ey, they do good fucking cupcakes, ‘aight?” 

“They do,” Kenny agreed. 

“But he caught Kyle leaving a passive aggressive note on his car and now they’re like in this war or something? But Tweek gives us free cupcakes as a thank you for letting them use our spot so…” 

Cartman gave a whine. “I can’t believe you gaywads get free cupcakes! That’s not fair! Why aren’t we friends with him?!” 

“I’m your cute blonde, you don’t need another one.” 

“Yeah but you don’t bring free cakes, Kinny, you’re poor as shit.” 

Kyle rolled his eyes and turned back to his friends. “It doesn’t matter. Stan and Tweek came to an agreement and now I’m just mad because he’s flaunting his victory like some asshole. Also, my note was polite, not passive aggressive.” 

The three of them gave him matching looks. 

“Okay it was a little passive aggressive, but in a nice way.” 

“You know Kyle,” Kenny started, leaning forward with a cheeky grin. “There’s nothing wrong with being attracted to your enemy. It’s natural. People could solve so many problems if they just took all that negative energy and fucked it out.” 

“Holy shit not this again.” 

“I’m just saying!” he raised his hands in defence, turning to the man across the room. “That guy? Definite catch. And if you’re worried, those shoes? Totally gay. Maybe you just need to get it out your system, then you can enjoy the cupcakes in peace.” 

Stan hummed thoughtfully. “I dunno, he seems kinda close to Tweek, doesn’t he?” 

“No way, man. He’s got that protective air about him I guess, but I remember hitting on Tweek last week and he’s single.” 

“Don’t hit on Tweek. Please.” 

Cartman nodded in furious agreement. “Don’t scare off the best baker in town Kinny, you fucking dick.” 

Kyle watched as the skittish baker in question leant up to say something to his companion, who gave a short laugh and leant down to respond. He tore his eyes away from the scene and back to his table, looking across at Cartman with a scowl. 

“I challenge you to stop-lights.” 

“O-ho-ho! Hear that? Kahl thinks he can out drink me!” 

Kenny gave an excited whoop as Stan buried his face in his hands. 

“How many rounds, Jew?” 

“As many as you think you can handle, fatass.” 

It was probably a mistake. 

Cartman beat him, finishing off five shots before he had to take a minute to let his head settle and finish the last one, while Kyle made it to four before the fifth one ended up down his front, the sharp amber liquor making him splutter. He managed to down the sixth shot, but he’d already lost. 

Kenny celebrated the battle by getting each of them a beer; toasting the night and downing half the bottle in one go. They knew the rest of the night they would be sneakily buying him drinks, knowing he was too proud to ask, but happy to take a round each. 

He found himself half way back from the toilets when he caught sight of the tight jeans and dark hair again. He’d nearly forgotten about it, too busy wrapped up in drinking with his friends and dancing with Kenny to realise what had first ignited his desire to challenge Cartman to drink shots. His feet changed course until he stopped in front of the man, brain full of cotton as he tried to form the words to express how distressed he was about the whole thing and give him a piece of his mind. 

That would stop it all. 

“Uh…are you alright?” Craig asked, brows pulling together. 

“I am _upset_.” 

A ghost of a smile. “How much have you had to drink?” 

“Not enough.” 

“If you say so.” 

Kyle reached forward, grasping hold of the man’s arm as the world shifted with the waves. “I wanted to tell you…” 

The man raised a brow, unmoving. 

“I wanted to tell you that you’re a fucking dickbag.” 

“Wow,” was the dry response. “How charming.” 

“Yeah,” he paused to take a breath and swallow the lump in his throat. “And I’m not gonna just-just _stand by_ and let you park your shitty car in my spot!” 

“I’m not sure you have a choice.” 

“Just cause-just cause you’ve got pretty eyes doesn’t mean I won’t put up a fight.” 

The eyes in question widened comically. “Uh, what?” 

“You heard me, assface.” 

“Did you say I have pretty eyes?” 

“No!” Kyle scowled up at the man. 

“I think you did.” 

“I think you’re an asshole.” 

“Yeah, you kinda made that bit clear.” 

Kyle looked round, grip tightening on Craig’s arm. “You’ve been talking to Kenny.” 

“Who?” 

“Kenny,” Kyle pointed across the room at the blonde man dancing away. “He’s-he’s a snake.” 

“I haven’t been talking to Kenny.” 

“You so have!” Kyle insisted, turning his glare back on the task at hand. “Because he thinks that I think you have pretty eyes.” 

Craig’s eyes flickered between Kyle and Kenny. “And is he right?” 

“About what?” 

“Do you think I have pretty eyes?” 

Kyle considered the question carefully. He looked up into the dark blues staring down at him, stepping closer to inspect better. They reminded him of space. Though that might’ve been because of all the flashing lights reflecting in their depths. 

“You’re really drunk.” 

“You’re…yeah.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

Craig pursed his lips, but Kyle could see the smile behind them. 

“I’m gonna-I’m gonna make a rule.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” Kyle took a step back to try and stop the world from spinning. “Only people who are visiting us are allowed to park in our spot.” 

“I thought that was already the rule?” 

“Yeah, and you broke it!” Kyle snapped. “So unless you visit us, you’re not allowed to park there.” 

“Let me get this straight,” Craig lifted the hand wrapped round a glass, pointing a finger at Kyle. “According to you, if I want to park in two-one-five, I have to visit you.” 

“Yes.” 

“What if I don’t want to visit you?” 

“Then you’re a fucking asshole and I’m gonna key your car.” 

“Rude.” 

Kyle smirked and planted his hands on his hips. “I’m glad we’ve come to an agreement. If you’ll excuse me, I have better things to do with my time.” 

“Like hang out with Kenny and talk about my pretty eyes?” 

“Yes,” he declared, turning on his heel with a little too much force and stumbling across to the dance floor, pushing his way through the bodies to find Kenny now that he had the blonde on his mind. He was greeted with a wonky-toothed grin that could break hearts and a warm arm wrapped around his shoulders, pulling him in close. 

“Hey lover boy, you took your sweet time! What were you talking to the fuel guzzler about?” 

Kyle pushed the curly bangs of red out his eyes. “I was giving him a piece of my mind.” 

“Yeah, looks like you really put him in his place.” 

“Good. You-you better stop telling him I think his eyes are pretty.” 

Kenny barked out a laugh. “That wasn’t me, dude.” 

“Yeah, it was, cause, who else would’ve told him?” 

“Maybe you did.” 

Kyle scowled. “That’s dumb.” 

“I think you need some orange juice.” 

“Put-put some vodka in it, yeah?” 

“For you darling? Anything.” 

* * *

There had been a handful of times in Kyle’s life where he got blackout drunk, followed by countless times where his memories were hazy and fuzzy. There were also times where Kyle _wishes_ he’d been blackout drunk in order to avoid dealing with the following embarrassment of being able to actually remember his bad decisions. 

This was one of those times. 

He woke the next morning thankful for his mother’s insistence in forcing him to drink countless glasses of water when drunk, as it was a habit he kept throughout college and into his working life. It was a habit that Stan picked up as soon as they moved in together, and saved the boys from numerous hangovers. 

That morning he still felt groggy, and a glance at his phone told him it was midday. He barely remembered getting home, but knew it was late when he did. At least he had the foresight to brush his teeth. 

He crawled out of bed and pulled his dressing gown off the back of his door in a half-hearted attempt to cover his naked torso, summoned by the smell of food being cooked in the kitchen. He moved through the house with a leisurely pace, hearing Stan’s voice carrying through as he held a reasonably one-sided conversation, presumably on the phone given the quiet pauses. 

Or maybe Kenny crashed at their place the night. He tended to do that if he got too drunk, not wanting the cries of hypocrite from his parents. 

Kyle stepped into the room mid-yawn, arms stretched wide. 

“Morning, you ready for breakfast?” Stan asked with a grin. “Told you, food always wakes him up after a night out.” 

Wait, Kenny would already know-?! 

His brain shut down. He felt his soul depart from his body, rising off to the afterlife and abandoning him in place. He _wished_ he could just abandon the mortal realm and go live somewhere else for a bit. Limbo wasn’t too bad, right? 

Blue eyes locked with his own, a familiar leather jacket hugging the man's frame. “Morning.” 

Kyle promptly left the room without another word. 

“Kyle!” Stan’s voice echoed through the hall as his best friend chased him. “Dude, you gotta have breakfast!” 

“Nope. I really don’t.” 

Stan grasped hold of his wrist as he got to his room, pulling him to a stop. “I’m sorry, I should’ve texted you or something.” 

“You cannot apologise while laughing, Stan. That’s not how it works.” 

The bigger man bit down on his smile. “You should’ve seen the look on your face though.” 

“I’m not even dressed!” Kyle hissed, gesturing down to himself. “And I haven’t brushed my hair! We both know what my hair does when I don’t brush it!” 

“Yeah, it’s a fucking mess.” 

“Are you here to make me feel better or can I go back to bed?” 

“I’m here to make you deal with this situation you’ve got yourself in,” Stan said. “He told me you invited him.” 

“I didn’t _invite_ him,” Kyle secured his gown round his torso, pushing into his room and grabbing the brush, holding it up for Stan to take. “I said only people who visited us were allowed to park in the spot.” 

Stan raised a brow. 

“Stop giving me that look!”

“Stop being a brat then.” 

“Ugh!” Kyle resisted the urge to throw his hands in the air as Stan brushed his hair and got it into some kind of decent style. “I’m not fighting about this. How long has he been here?” 

“Like, half an hour? He stayed at Tweek’s last night and said he’s heading off soon, but wanted to stop by and visit. Kenny said you guys talked about how his eyes were pretty? He hasn’t said anything so I didn’t want to bring it up, but…” 

Kyle snatched the brush back and threw it into his room as the clouded memory hit him. “Breakfast. Now.” 

They returned to the kitchen to find Craig still sat at the small breakfast table on his phone, tapping away on a messenger app. He didn’t glance up as Kyle sat down opposite him, Stan going back to the stove to finish up the waffles. 

He took the chance to look over the man while the blue eyes weren’t on him. There was light stubble lining his defined jaw, small ears nearly hidden by the mess of black hair on top of his head. There were a couple of holes at his eyebrow that implied it was or had been pierced, though it lacked any decorating now. 

He _was_ attractive. For a douchebag. 

The only warning Kyle got was the phone hitting the table. He snapped his gaze to Stan in a way that probably wasn’t as subtle as he hoped. 

“So,” the nasally voice was dry as ever, though Kyle _swore_ he could hear a teasing tilt. “Had a good night?” 

“Wonderful,” Kyle met the man’s gaze with a straight face. “Though there was this asshole who seems to have followed me home.” 

Craig clicked his tongue, expression unchanging. “Nice try, but you said I was only allowed to park in your spot if I visited. So, here I am.” 

“It wasn’t an invitation.” 

“You’re right, it wasn’t,” Craig agreed as Stan placed his and Kyle’s breakfast on the table. “It was a threat. You said you’d key my car if I didn’t want to visit.” 

Stan pinched the bridge of his nose. “Oh my god.” 

Kyle felt his cheeks heat up. “I was very drunk and said some things I didn’t mean.” 

“I’m glad to know my car’s safe. Given that it’s not mine.” 

“What?” 

“It’s my dad’s old car,” Craig shifted in his seat as he pulled a face. “So, I guess it’s sort of mine, but only cause I didn’t have another option.” 

Kyle thought to all the insults about him being a fuel guzzler and not caring for the environment. “Oh.” 

“Yeah,” he cleared his throat. “So how long do I have to visit for to be allowed the space?” 

Stan rolled his eyes with a fond smile as he started on his food. “You’re good, dude. Kyle’s full of shit, you don’t have to visit us.” 

“Hey!” 

He was ignored. Craig shrugged the comment off. “It’s fine, Tweek’s…kind of been pushing me to stop by anyway.” 

“Really?” 

“Yeah,” Craig shrugged again. “He thinks you’re pretty cool or something. He was worried I was gonna scare you off or whatever.” 

“You guys seem pretty close.” 

“Yeah, we are.” 

Stan gestured at Kyle with his fork. “Kyle and I have been best friends for as long as I can remember. We went to the same kindergarten.” 

“That’s a long friendship.” 

“Yeah, I don’t know how I’ve managed to put up with him all these years.” 

Craig smirked. “Tweek and I dated when we were like, fourteen or something. A mixture of peer pressure and weird girls.” 

“And you’re still friends?” 

“He’s got a good heart.” 

Craig excused himself shortly after, Kyle sucking up his pride and offering to see him to the door. Stan winked at him on the way out but he pointedly ignored it in favour of removing the bastard SUV guy from his house. 

Craig turned once he was on the other side of the door, face stoic but shoulders raised high with his hands stuffed in his pockets. “Am I off the hook?” 

“No,” Kyle responded automatically, leaning against the doorframe. “Absolutely not. You may have Stan fooled, but I know you just came round to rub it in my face.” 

“Me? Never.” 

“No one likes a sore winner, Craig.” 

The whispers of a smirk. “If you weren’t such a sore loser it wouldn’t be so fun.” 

Kyle was stunned into silence as the man turned and headed for the stairs, yelling out a delayed ‘dickhead’ before the door shut. He stormed back into the house and flopped down into his chair at the table, scowling down at his half-eaten plate of waffles. 

Thankfully Stan decided it was wiser not to say anything. 

* * *

Five days of blissful peace passed before Kyle had to suffer through seeing that dumb handsome face again. He was at work every day, free from the stupidity and arguments with the fuel guzzler. Admittedly he couldn't really all them stupid given that Craig met him in the middle and gave as good as he got, but it still came down to the principle of it. 

They were arguing over a parking spot. It was kind of stupid. 

He saw Tweek a couple of times in passing, always giving a friendly hello and quick conversation. He could see the appeal in the initially timid blonde, who turned out to be less timid and more paranoid. The shit he came out with was gold. 

It was a Friday afternoon and he'd barely been home from work for an hour, still in his slacks and tie when the doorbell went. He opened it up and once again was filled with a poor self-image when standing next to this assbag. 

"Hello." 

Craig raised a hand in greeting. "You're home." 

"Yes, I am." 

"You haven't been." 

Kyle cocked a brow. "How many times have you tried to come round that you know this?" 

"A couple. I'm here to visit." 

The redhead took a step back, opening the door fully. "Good. I'm glad you're taking the rules more seriously." 

They found themselves in the living room, sitting on the double couch in silence, staring off into the distance. Craig was quick to make himself comfortable, taking up all his space and spilling into Kyle's, who sat on the edge of his seat with a thumping heart and thoughts of everything Kenny had said to him. 

Craig broke the silence. "You...just finished work?" 

"What?" Kyle played with the end of his tie. "Right, yes. I have." 

"What's your job?" 

"I work at a law firm," Kyle explained. "In their finance department." 

"Cool." 

"What do you do?" 

Craig shrugged. "I go around finding office boys who are easily agitated and make it my mission to piss them off." 

Kyle felt that familiar spark of frustration. 

"Sorry, I know you thought you were special." 

"You're hilarious." 

"Thanks. I try super hard." 

Kyle huffed. "Are you jobless? Is that what you're getting at?" 

"Nah, I work." 

"As what? A McDonalds employee? An astronaut?" 

"I wish. McDonalds employees get free food every day." 

Kyle rolled his eyes. 

"I'm an aviation analysist. I study plane faults and crashes and figure out what happened." 

Kyle's eyes widened. "Dude, Isn't that...kind of terrifying?" 

"I guess," he shrugged. "I think it's pretty interesting. I know tonnes of ways a plane could crash out the sky and kill everyone on board. You know the chances of people surviving any form of plane crash are pretty damn slim. If you're going down, you're going down." 

"How do you ever travel anywhere?" 

"They're also statistically unlikely. It's like," Craig grasped at the air. "The theory that the safer people feel driving the more dangerous it becomes. An effective safety device for a car would be to put a big metal spike coming out the steering wheel, because people can see the danger, and they'd drive better because they don't feel safe. Pilots know how dangerous it is. There’s no illusion of safety." 

What the fuck. 

"But you know, planes are pretty cool too, so...yeah." 

Who the fuck was this guy? 

Kyle cleared his throat. "I'm glad you...enjoy your job?" 

"Yup." 

"Do you want a drink or something?" 

"God yes." 

Kyle learnt that Craig was also an older brother, and had a sister called Tricia. He learnt that growing up Craig had wanted to be an astronaut, gone into physics class, and fallen in love with everything about it. 

Craig learnt that Kyle came from a Jewish family with a mother who had all the best intentions. That when they were teenagers, Kyle and his friends had wanted to be in a band, but then his mother forced him into work experience at the law firm his father worked for and he'd found it embarrassingly interesting. He also learnt that Kyle had a little brother, Ike, who was into game design. 

The somewhat stilted conversation began to flow smoother, until Craig's phone buzzed aggressively in his hands. 

"It's Tweek," Craig supplied, putting his drink on the table and standing up. "I should go see him." 

"He is who you came for." 

"Right. Do you wanna-I mean-you can come down if you want?" 

He hesitated, the question catching him off-guard. He could imagine Stan’s voice in the back of his mind encouraging him to go down and bring back something good to eat. “Nah, I should probably start dinner. I’m making it tonight.” 

“Cool. I’ll see you around then.” 

The redhead stood and walked Craig to the door, giving what he hoped was a friendly smile to the other. “Thanks for stopping by. You’re not as bad as I thought you would be.” 

“I could say the same for you, but I don’t want to lie.” 

“Alright then, assface. Last time I make you coffee.” 

Craig sighed out, shrugging lightly. “I just…can you be straight with me for five minutes?” 

Kyle raised a brow. 

“Because this whole thing is kind of confusing, and I want to clear something up.” 

“Okay. What?” 

He grimaced as he spoke. “I need to know where we stand before I make a fool of myself. I need to know what you want out of all this.” 

“What I want?” 

“You call me an asshole, and you get on my case, but then you compliment me and invite me round to your house to visit, and you let me in when I come round, even if you’re still calling me an asshole, and sometimes- _sometimes_ -it’s almost like you’re flirting with me.” 

Kyle felt his face begin to heat up as his heart jumped to his throat. 

“Can you just…be blunt? I don’t wanna like, make a move or whatever when I’ve got the wrong end of the stick.” 

“Right,” Kyle paused and licked his lips, glancing away from the blue hooded boy in favour of checking the hallway was clear. “I’m sorry if-!” 

“It’s alright. I’ll get out your hair.” 

“No!” he reached forward to grasp hold of the man before he could leave, wrapping his fingers around his wrist. “That’s not what I meant. I don’t want you to leave.” 

Craig stopped, staring down at him with an unreadable face. 

“You’re not wrong. I…I wouldn’t be against you making a move.” 

“Cool. Good to know.” 

Kyle drew his hand back and dropped Craig’s wrist, forcing a scowl onto his face. “But you’ll just have to get used to me calling you an asshole because that’s just what you are.” 

Craig smirked and took a few steps backwards towards the stairs. “When are you free tomorrow?” 

“Tomorrow?” 

“Yeah, tomorrow.” 

Kyle’s eyes narrowed. “All day. Why?” 

“I’ll pick you up at five.” 

“I look forward to it.” 

He found he wasn’t lying. Not as he allowed the door to close and turned on his heel to head back into the living room, feeling a sudden urge to either jump for joy or punch himself in the gut. That had definitely been him being asked out on a date. That had been _Craig_ the SUV guy asking _him_ out on a date, even though over fifty percent of their meetings had included Kyle in his horrible work slacks and untamed hair. 

“Jesus fuck.”

* * *

Stan watched from the door of his room, snacking away on yogurt tubes as Kyle raced around trying to find something that was vaguely ‘date appropriate’. He had never been the one to particularly look after his appearance, he had more important things to do than care about fashion or style, and so long as his hair was hidden that meant he didn’t have to _deal_ with it. 

But now he was at a bit of a loss. He’d debated asking Kenny for help, but didn’t want to deal with the perversion that would go with it. Eventually he huffed out and turned to his best friend, gesturing at the clothes on the bed. 

“Are you going to stand there, or are you going to _help me_.” 

Stan raised his brows, slurping the last of his treat. “Do you need help?” 

“What does it look like?!” 

“I mean, you’re going on a date with the _SUV guy_ , I’m not sure I can give you the kind of help you need.” 

“Fuck you, Stan.” 

The dark haired boy entered the room fully, turning his attention down to the clothes on the bed. “The green one, it brings your eyes out. And those skinny jeans Kenny got you last Christmas.” 

“Ugh, I hate skinny jeans.” 

“Yeah, but it means you can wear your boots and not look like an idiot, and he got you them because they look good on you.” 

“Fine.” 

Stan sat down on the clothes he deemed unfit. “So, is he driving?” 

“I don’t know. I don’t even know what we’re doing.” 

“This is very spontaneous of you.” 

“I’m spontaneous.” 

“You are, yeah. It’s just been a while since you had a reason to be. It’s nice.” 

Kyle pulled the green shirt over his head and fished out the skinny jeans he had hidden at the back of the cupboard. “Yeah, I guess so.” 

“Do you want me to sort out your hair for you?” 

Kyle could’ve kissed the man. 

Come ten to six there was a knock on the door of their apartment. Stan had offered to go to Kenny’s for the evening, to which Kyle shot him a scathing look at the implication behind his words. He pulled on his boots and grabbed his jacket and keys before heading to the door, pleased that this time he wasn’t wearing office clothes. 

As soon as he opened the door Stan called out from the living room: “Don’t forget, be back by ten young man!” 

“Eat shit, Marsh!” Kyle shot back with fury. He slammed the door closed before turning to the man on the other side with a forced smile. “Hey.” 

Craig cracked a lopsided smile, one hand fiddling with his keys and the other stuffed in his pocket. “Hey. Ready to go?” 

“Please, yes.” 

He followed Craig down the stairs towards where the large blue car that had started this whole mess was parked, appreciating the man in front of him as they walked. The leather jacket was different to his usual one, a bit shorter on his torso. Not that Kyle was about to complain about that. It suited him well. 

"You good with a film and food?" 

Kyle raised a brow, smirk on his face as they approached the car. "So, you're going with typical date activities?" 

Craig shrugged and unlocked the car. "I like movies, a lot, so if you pick one I don't like this clearly isn't going to work. Also, are you saying you _don't_ eat? Tell me now if that's the case." 

"I eat, and I like movies." 

"Good. Get in the car." 

The inside of his nightmares was clean, with a couple of cans of cola sat in the cup holders in the middle. It was a lot tidier than Kenny's run-around he used to visit them with, but he couldn't help feel flattered at the way Craig fumbled through an excuse and apology for the litter. 

"Is it as bad as you thought it would be?" he asked as he pulled out the parking space and began to drive. 

"Worse." 

He was pleased at the smile that drew from the other man. 

"We should go to the cinema first," Kyle decided. "So that we have something to talk about during dinner." 

"That's fair, do you have a preference to what we watch and where we eat?" 

"Not really. Where do you want to go?" 

Craig shrugged. "Wherever, I'm not a picky eater. I'll be happy wherever you want to go." 

"Seeing as you like movies you can pick what we watch and I'll pick where we eat then?" 

He saw the smile flicker across Craig's face. "Yeah, that sounds good." 

It turned out they didn't need the cinema to make conversation. On the way there Kyle managed to fill the silence, and found Craig was happy to answer any question he fired his way, regardless of the subject matter. It flowed easily between general conversation and poking banter that left him feeling a little giddy by the time they arrived at the cinema. 

Craig paid for the movie and got them a drink to share, letting Kyle pick which coloured straw he wanted. They took their seats in the middle and snarked at the adverts as they played. Kyle was surprised to find how close they were by the time the movie started, elbows pushed together on the armrest. 

It was a good movie. Kyle would give him that. 

It didn't stop him picking a couple of holes as they made their way to the closest restaurant, getting a bigger rise out of Craig than he'd seen so far that night, though he could see the hidden smile at the corners of his mouth. 

The dark-haired man was intelligent, and quick to retort, and happy to listen. It was a nice combination. A perfect combination. 

He did his best to respond in kind, asking questions to prompt him into speaking more about himself, something that Craig didn't seem overly familiar with. 

The ride back to the flat was the first period spent in silence apart from the film. Kyle watched building pass through the window, his toes curling as they pulled into the parking lot of his apartment block. Craig walked him all the way to his door without speaking, the sound of his keys jingling between his fingers echoing through the stairwell. 

“I had a great time tonight,” Craig confessed as they arrived at Kyle’s door.

“Me too,” Kyle agreed, a smile playing on his lips as he fished out his keys. “Thanks for asking me out. Even if you did make me ride in that monster.” 

“You know the more shit you talk the more I love that car, right?” Craig asked as he leant against the door frame while Kyle twisted the key. “I’m never going to get rid of it.” 

“You should. Seriously get rid of that car.” 

“Or else what?” 

“Or else…” he trailed off, eyes flickering across Craig’s face. “Or else you’ll never get a kiss goodnight.” 

“Is that right?” 

“Yeah, it is.” 

He had the element of surprise. 

Craig ducked down, moving with such speed that he missed Kyle’s lips and instead got the corner of his mouth, but the sentiment remained. The redhead was stunned into silence, jaw slack as he gaped up at the taller man, waiting for something to drop. 

The cocky confidence began to fade. “Was that too-shit I shouldn’t have-?!” 

Kyle surged forward and hit his mark dead on centre. 

The threat fell empty again as they kissed in the doorway, arms tangling together and a rough hand tangling into his curls. He hummed happily against the taller man’s mouth, leaning his body forward into the kiss and hooking a finger through a belt loop, keeping them pressed flush together. 

The innocence of the evening was quickly killed by an electricity that coursed through him as the other man deepened the kiss, tongue flickering against his own and pulling his bottom lip between teeth, biting down the perfect amount as the hands seemed to sink further into the mess of his hair. His fingers pulled at the fabric of Craig's shirt, slipping below the leather jacket that looked so good, but would look so much better on the floor. 

When he pulled back all he could hear were fireworks, and all he could see were stars. 

“I should go,” Craig spoke quietly, his words ghosting across Kyle’s face. 

“You don’t have to,” Kyle whispered. “You could stay if you want.” 

A torn groan of frustration broke free. “I _could_ …” 

“I can make us hot drinks, or get a couple of beers,” he offered. “We can watch TV. Or go to my room.” 

Craig bit down on his lip. “Maybe next time.” 

Kyle _whined_. 

“Christ you’re hot.” 

“Not hot enough, apparently.” 

“You are,” Craig assured. “But you’ll have to work a bit harder than that to get in my pants.” 

“Ugh, I hate you.” 

“I hate you too,” a final kiss on his lips, softer than before. “I’m visiting on Thursday.” 

“I get home at six.” 

“I’ll see you then.” 

Kyle pulled him forward with insistence, capturing him again, before Craig pulled back with a fond smile across his features. He walked backwards for five steps, eyes not leaving Kyle, who made no effort to go into his house and instead lounged in the doorway with what he hoped was a kicked puppy look. 

Craig just laughed, pressing a hand to his heart, and turned to the stairway. 

He finally went into the apartment and shut the door with a skip in his steps and ghosts of a kiss on his lips. 

“Your date went well then?” 

He jumped half a mile in the air at Stan’s voice. “Holy fuck dude, don’t sneak up on me like that.” 

“I didn’t,” his friend shrugged from his place in the living room. “You’re just all wrapped up in your mushy little world.” 

“I am not,” Kyle insisted, sheading his coat and heading towards his own room. “But thanks for your input.” 

“Don’t forget!” Stan shouted through the flat. “It’s not classy to put out until at _least_ the third date, no matter what Kenny says!” 

“Keep your nose out of it!” 

He couldn’t deny that the idea of a _third date_ left him feeling giddy and light. 

* * *

Stan groaned as his forehead hit the wooden door of the apartment in front of him, knocking slowly with his left fist. He should've known this was going to happen, but he'd kind of been joking about it not being classy to put out till after the third date, so assumed that was going to be the end of it. But this was Kyle they were talking about, and when did he ever do what other people thought he should. 

The door opened, showing a wild blonde on the other side with wide eyes and a nervous tic. 

"Stan?" 

"Hey, Tweek. Are you-uh-free to hang out?" 

Tweek raised a brow, glancing down the hallway. "I-I guess? I thought...Craig was- _nn_ _-_ meant to be coming round?" 

"Yeah, not happening. They kicked me out." 

"Shit, man, do you want me to-like-go get him-or something?" 

"Don't worry about it, dude. I'll just chill here for a bit." 

They stepped into the apartment, Tweek scrambling about to tidy up some of his magazines from the couch, before his phone buzzed on the table. The pair glanced at each other before Tweek picked it up, opening the message and biting back a sympathetic smile. 

Stan groaned loudly. "They could've at least given me some warning. I don't have an overnight bag for Kenny's or anything." 

"D-don't worry about it, you can crash here." 

He wondered if it would be worth investing in a spare toothbrush to keep at Tweek's place. 

**Author's Note:**

> This has been sat in my folders for weeks waiting to be finished because I HATE writing date scenes. 
> 
> That's literally it. The rest of it was written. Just the date (which I totally skimped out on sorry not sorry)


End file.
